


Bob Ross Knows All

by kay_emm_gee



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College, F/M, Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5362187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Raven notices that Boyscout--the overly prepared guy who sits in front of her--is no longer the model student and instead is using Paintbrush to master a Bob Ross tutorial during class, she can't help but be intrigued.</p>
<p>Too bad she doesn't know his real name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bob Ross Knows All

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of a post I saw on tumblr.

Raven frowned as Professor Sydney–or  _Diana_ , as she told them on the first day with an overbearing-mom smile that bordered on creepy–droned on and on at the front of the class. The frown wasn’t because of  _Diana_ , really; all  _Diana_  made her want to do was get up and leave. She would too, if she didn’t need this class to fulfill her stupid required history elective (she was starting to regret going to a liberal arts college as an engineering major).

She wasn’t even really looking at  _Diana_. Instead, she was squinting at the laptop screen one row in front of her, and a seat to the left. The guy it belonged to–tall, broad shoulders, usually talkative and often mouthy when it came to challenging  _Diana_ –was doing something highly irregular for him, specifically not paying attention to the lecture. He always paid attention, with his highlighted readings splayed out on the desk and supplemental documents drawn up on his computer (usually to prove  _Diana_ wrong).

Today, though, he had Paintbrush taking over half the screen, with the other half occupied by a miniaturized YouTube video of the painter guy with the crazy bush of brown hair. Bob somebody, she vaguely dredged up. It took her a minute, and she almost laughed when she figured it out. Boyscout was following along with the Bob-whoever tutorial on Paintbrush. Fucking  _Paintbrush._

For the rest of the class, Raven watched him as he stealthily traced his fingers across the mouse pad, adding stroke after pixelated stroke to his project. It was fascinating, in a very strange way, and she was a little disappointed that he hadn’t finished when _Diana_  dismissed them. As she packed up her things, Raven watched the guy carefully save his work, then minimize the video before shutting his laptop. He had scooted out the door before she even made it down her row.

During their next class two days later, Boyscout was back to his notes and just-barely-appropriate dress-downs of  _Diana_ , which, if she was being honest, Raven appreciated more now. He obviously had finished the piece already, and she narrowed her eyes at his back, disappointed that she hadn’t gotten to see the final product.

At the end of class, he turned suddenly and caught her staring. Annoyed with herself, she glanced down at her keyboard and hunched behind her laptop screen to hide. He was gone by the time she looked up. Sighing, Raven shuffled out of class, resigning herself to the fact that she would never see how his artwork had turned out.

* * *

Three weeks later, though, she was staring at the final version, hung as it was on her biology lab partner’s (and sort of friend’s) dorm room wall.

“It’s an original,” Clarke said with a grin, sitting with legs tucked up on her desk chair. “I know the artist personally.”

“Modelled after a Bob-whoever painting, right?” Raven asked absently, fingertips grazing the letter-sized paper printout of the artwork.

“Yes,” Clarke said slowly. When Raven glanced over, she raised her eyebrows. “Good eye. A big Bob fan?”

“Um. Yeah. Sure.” Raven shrugged, then flopped onto Clarke’s bed. “So do you want to do the intro or the results and discussion section?”

Clarke stared at her for a moment, as if contemplating not letting her swift change of subject slide. Then she sighed and opened her laptop. “I’d prefer to do the intro, unless you want to fight me for it. I’d give myself pretty good odds of winning, though.”

“Down, girl. I’ll do the results and discussion.”

Clarke quirked a grin at her, then pulled up their data. “Sounds like a plan.”

After drafting a rough outline of the whole report together, they began to work on their separate sections. Raven was belly-down on the bed, her wrists aching a bit from the weird typing angle. Grumbling, she sat up and leaned her back against the wall, which placed her directly in the eyeline of Boyscout’s painting. Every other sentence typed, her eyes would flick up to the paper, which just hung there, daring her to ask.

She managed to make it through half of the discussion before she blurted, “Who drew it?”

“Hm?” Clarke said, clicking out of a YouTube cat video that had absolutely nothing to do with  _Arabadopsis_ genetics.

“Never mind.”

“My best friend,” Clarke said, turning around as her brain caught up with her ears. “He drew it.”

Raven stared at her waiting, but Clarke just stared back, mouth twitching.

“You already have a best friend in college?” Raven asked lightly.

“We met in the womb.”

“What? He’s your brother?”

Clarke laughed. “No, sorry. It’s just what we say, and it’s always confusing. Our parents were friends, so we’ve known each other since birth. Before birth, really. And yes, we grew up together. No, we never dated. Yes, we purposely went to the same college, which means yes, we have a slightly unhealthy co-dependent relationship.”

Still trying to wrap her head around the introduction, Raven said dryly, “You could find a different way to explain your slightly unhealthy co-dependent relationship other than referencing the womb, you know.” 

“It’s kind of fun. People get all sorts of confused. Your expression was one of the better ones.”

“So does your friend enjoy freaking people out too?”

“Nah, Wells is too nice for that.”

Raven glanced up–so, so unwillingly–at the name reveal, and Clarke lifted her chin in triumph. 

“So do you know the painting because of Bob Ross or because of Wells?” She asked slyly. 

“He’s in my history class.”

“Bob Ross?”

“There’s a stand-up comedy night at Grounders. You should try out, really. I think you’d do great. Don’t let the booing scare you off, though. They mean it lovingly.”

“He stops by a lot you know.”

“Who, Bob Ross?”

That got a laugh out of Clarke, and Raven fought a smile.

“He’s single.”

Her smile evaporated, and Raven glowered at her friend, who just spun round and round in her desk chair, grinning like a fool.

“Don’t forget to cite Singh’s own paper in the intro. She’s a narcisscistic asshole, but at least it gives us easy points to win,” Raven announced, not even trying to be subtle.

Wiggling back around, Clarke chuckled under her breath as she pulled up their report. “Noted.”

Raven glanced up at the troublesome painting again, sighing to herself and sincerely hoping that Clarke wouldn’t tell Boyscout–or rather Wells, apparently–that he had a new fan.

* * *

When Raven walked into her history classroom the next week, she stopped dead and decided she was going to kill Clarke Griffin. It wasn’t like the labs were all that difficult; she could manage without a partner, especially one who apparently had a big mouth.

So living without a lab partner was something should could handle. What she didn’t know if she could manage was the fact that Wells was sitting not in his usual seat, but instead in the one right beside her usual place, where the dour-looking blonde lacrosse bro typically posted up. With wary steps, she approached, but Wells didn’t look up as she sat next to him. In fact, he didn’t even acknowledge her until class had started. It was only when  _Diana_  launched into another pointless (and ignorant) tangent, that someone nudged her elbow.

“What’s your email?” Wells whispered.

“What?”

“Your email.”

She glanced at him carefully before whispering it back, and he smiled. Then his fingers flew over his keyboard. She watched them, thick and precise, typing out her name. So focused on his hands, she missed the message before he sent it.

“Check your email,” he whispered, grinning when she just stared at him out of the corner of her eye for a minute.

Biting her lip, she opened her inbox and clicked on his message, which contained a link to a video. After ensuring her speakers were off, Raven clicked the link, which brought her to a Bob Ross video, a new one this time.

“You too can become a master of Paintbrush in an hour or less,” he murmured under his breath.

Raven fought a smile. “What a totally useful skill to have.”

“Totally.”

“The trick is in the wrist. Smooth, steady strokes.”

“Oh, really? Smooth, steady strokes?”

She grinned when his shoulders rose up a bit and he coughed, seemingly embarrassed at the unintentional innuendo.

“Bob Ross knows all,” he muttered quietly, inching closer to his screen.

Raven snorted, and he stifled a laugh, glancing over at her warmly.

“So there are a lot of Bob Ross videos,” he said a minute later. “And they’re better not on a tiny screen.”

“Are you trying to Netflix and Chill me with Bob Ross videos?”

“Not at all.”

“Good. Because I’d much rather you Netflix and Chill me with infomercials about ‘you haven’t lived until you’ve tried the Foilnater’ or whatever. Figuring out how those useless contraptions work is a way better use of our time.”

“You free Friday?”

“After dinner.”

“Awesome. I’ll bring the videos.”

“I’ll bring the Foilnater.”

She glanced away from her atrocious attempt at a wooded riverside–seriously, her deer looked like it had two heads–to look at Wells. He wasn’t looking at her, just his computer screen, but the broad smile on his face made her pulse jump with happy excitement.

“It’s a date,” she murmured, and she swear his smile got even bigger as he repeated her words in an agreeing whisper.

Raven turned back to her computer, grinning herself, because at least  _Diana’s_  class was good for something.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm becoming more Wellven by the day and I am the MOST happy about it :D
> 
> Come find me on tumblr (kay-emm-gee)!


End file.
